Patronus-2

Snow began falling again outside, but inside, the house was cozy and warm. A pot of creamy mushroom soup simmered on the stove.

The Wraith Chicken cocked its head, observing its summoner, who was holding a can of acrylic paint and trying to coax it to stay still.

"Since magic won't work, let's try a Muggle approach," Anthony urged. "Come on, Red Comb."

The Wraith Chicken reluctantly allowed him to paint its comb a vibrant red. But when Anthony tried to add a few more strokes, it pecked the paintbrush and flew to the top of the cupboard, the skeletal cat shifting to make room.

Both pets stared down at Anthony, who reached out and called to them, but they ignored him.

Anthony sighed in defeat and sank into an armchair, opening his notebook. "Fine, I'll find a more magical solution."

After a while, the Wraith Chicken hopped down and perched on his knee. Anthony stroked its comb, using whiskey to remove the paint.

After finishing his soup and bread, Anthony stared blankly at his notebook for a few minutes before deciding to switch gears. He was exhausted.

Neither necromancy nor soul research offered any guidance on "how to keep your wraith alive." In fact, if not for the fortunate discovery of the "Elixir of Life," which seemed to have granted the skeletal cat a form of immortality, he wouldn't have even had time to figure out how to disguise the cat.

Anthony flipped through his notes, landing on the Patronus Charm. This spell presented a unique perspective: it summoned a tangible yet ethereal form that could travel anywhere. If he could cast a Patronus, he could study how it moved freely despite its lack of a solid body.

"Expecto Patronum," Anthony muttered, raising his wand.

Nothing happened, as expected. He needed positive emotions, happy memories—whatever he could muster. The happiest memories lately involved his students passing their exams.

He took a deep breath and tried again. "Expecto Patronum!"

Still nothing. The skeletal cat sauntered over, sniffed the wand tip curiously, then walked away with a disdainful air.

"Alright, alright," Anthony mumbled, pulling out his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and flipping to the Patronus Charm section. "Let's see... 'If a memory doesn't evoke enough emotion, try modifying it into something more positive.'"

Something more positive. He glanced at the book's sidebar suggestions: "For instance, the first time you displayed magical talent, or achieving a goal that brings you satisfaction."

His mind raced through memories: waking up in darkness, filled with power, breaking through dirt and wood... No, not that.

Then, he recalled landing a job without a background check, rebuilding his life, being a quick and efficient cashier...

"Expecto Patronum," he whispered, lacking confidence. If it worked, he'd feel like magic was playing favorites.

The wand's silence confirmed it didn't.

He thought harder. Getting a wand despite his unusual circumstances... figuring out how to sneak the skeletal cat into Hogwarts, only to find the cat had managed it on its own... the students and colleagues who liked him (most of them, anyway)... returning home to find it untouched... the skeletal cat and Wraith Chicken keeping him company...

These thoughts swirled, bringing a sense of comfort and warmth.

Anthony repeated the incantation. This time, a wisp of silvery smoke emerged from the wand tip. But before he could discern its form, it vanished into thin air.

.....

The entire afternoon, Anthony practiced summoning the thin, steady stream of smoke, growing more proficient with each attempt, yet still unable to conjure a true Patronus.

Not even the substantial, shimmering mist described in the book as capable of repelling Dementors for a time—not that he had any need to repel those creatures.

Anthony sighed. Either his status as a Dark wizard, or his inability to find the right memory, or both, were hindering him.

He put down his wand, massaged his aching forehead, and decided to make a cup of tea.

As he waited for the water to boil, his thoughts returned to the elusive memory he needed. He had exhausted all the positive memories he could recall, both recent and distant.

It was only through this exercise that he realized how many memories lacked any positive emotional resonance.

Flint lying limp on the Quidditch pitch... Potter dangling precariously from his broom... Longbottom vanishing into a hole in the ice... Those young Slytherins, oblivious to the terrible acts they were committing... Myrtle weeping in the bathroom, the Acromantula fleeing the Forbidden Forest... His own desperate struggles, never quite managing to float... A little girl pushed into a lake, the onlookers on the shore indifferent...

The closest these memories offered to positivity was a sense of "surviving by chance."

Anthony shook his head, attempting to banish these memories to the recesses of his mind.

"The last thing I need is to practice summoning a Patronus with those," he muttered.

Those words seemed to trigger something within him. Magic surged through him, and Anthony was taken aback.

"Could it be?"

The skeletal cat hopped onto the table, watching him intently. He cautiously pointed his wand at the empty space before him. "Expecto Patronum!"

Magic responded instantly.

A gray-black mist poured from his body. Anthony focused on the fear and desperation he felt at the time – the mist thickened. He wanted to live, for himself and for others. The mist solidified, transforming into a massive creature. If he could choose again, he would have prevented those tragedies. The creature rose from the floor, its back scraping against the ceiling, causing the wooden beams to creak and the kitchen light to swing precariously.

Anthony stared at his conjuration, unsure if it could be considered a Patronus.

It was a bear. Opaque and mobile, but certainly not the kind of Patronus that repelled Dementors.

In fact, Anthony thought it looked more like it could devour them.